The Ragged Truth Part 2

Merlin's smile waned as he studied Morgana, her shorn, unkempt hair, fair skin draped in peasant clothing, no glamor highlighting the brooding blue eyes glaring back at him. How different this image was from the powerful sorceress and queen who had brought Camelot to its knees.

In his fine clothes and ascension in status, he now stood equal to the woman Fate had destined as his mortal enemy. The one foretold to defeat Arthur had been defeated instead. Destiny was a fickle mistress.

Part of Merlin was grateful her threat had been contained. But seeing Morgana diminished like this brought him no joy or vindication. Only uncertainty of how to mend their fractured paths.

He yearned to reach out, offer kindness, rebuild what was lost. But acrimony and resentment still simmered behind her eyes. She saw an enemy where once had been friendship. Could that trust ever be restored?

Merlin's eyes flitted to her head. She touched her hair, her cheeks flushing.

She removed the shawl from around her shoulders. Covering her head, she tied a loose knot, the ends falling behind her shoulders. Her arms now exposed, the Hades' Grip glistened in the light of day on Morgana's wrist.

Merlin's gaze floated to the bracelet, its power enduring, true to its penalty nature if any magic was used while wearing it. The sight of dried blood on twisted spikes made him involuntarily clench his fist.

He'd witnessed Arthur seal that merciless binding with his lifeblood, condemning Morgana to have her magic sealed away, perhaps indefinitely. At the time, Merlin agreed such ruthlessness was necessary to contain her threat.

Now, the bracelet seemed only to cause Morgana more pain on top of her punishment. Looking at its cruel embrace, part of Merlin wondered if there was another way, if she could be turned from animosity and made to see the goodness in herself and her friends again.

But he also knew the cost of her unchecked power. Could she ever be trusted to walk freely as a sorceress once more? The Hades' Grip offered no easy answers, only thorny truths.

"You deceived everyone," Morgana said, drawing his focus. "You have magic. Does Arthur know?"

Merlin flushed, nodded once. "He does."

Morgana's voiced pitched in disbelief. "And you're still alive?"

"Much has changed, Morgana." He searched her face. "I know it may be hard to believe, but I never wanted any of this to happen."

"Empty words, especially from you." She gestured sharply at the binding on her wrist. "Is this what you wanted for me?"

Merlin's throat tightened at the rebuke. He opened his mouth but found no adequate response. How could he explain the impossible choices between her freedom and the kingdom's safety? That even now, he grieved to see her bright spirit trapped and diminished?

"I've always cared," he insisted, though the words rang hollow even to himself. "Until you turned against us."

"Lies," she spat. "You wanted me dead. Have you come to finish what Arthur couldn't?"

Merlin recoiled, stunned by the accusation. "No, I—"

She brushed past him, stepping out of the cave and into the brisk air. "What do you want, Merlin?"

"I wanted to give you this," he said, withdrawing the book from his tunic as he followed her.

Her eyes filled with involuntary tears as she recognized it. Reaching out her hands, she took the leather-bound treasure, the one link left to her distant mother.

"Thank you," she whispered. For a moment the hostile mask fell away, revealing the vulnerable girl beneath.

Merlin pressed on carefully, hoping this crack in her armor was a chance for her to see the dawn of Albion's rise. "Arthur and Gwen married. She will be crowned queen soon."

Morgana's face shuttered at the news. Merlin watched regret and resignation war across her features before she masked them. Gripping the book to her chest, she turned and paced in brooding silence.

Merlin hesitated, then steeled his nerve. "There's more, Morgana." He had one last truth to reveal that few knew, his final bid to regain her trust. Surely she would understand once she was told?

Morgana glanced back. "Let me guess - you're a dragonlord, too?"

He gave a solemn chuckle. "I suppose that couldn't be missed."

She lifted her chin, not amused. "You killed Agravaine. But war makes killers of us all."

"This war brought only loss to innocents, Morgana." Merlin met her gaze. "Can we not seek a better path?"

Her lip curled into a sneer. "Lecturing me, Merlin?"

"There must be peace between us," he gently urged. "Albion needs you."

"As your pawn?" Morgana hissed, startling him momentarily.

He searched her face for any glimmer of the friend she had been. But her eyes were cold, distrustful. Kilgharrah's warnings rang in Merlin's mind, yet he pushed onwards.

"This cave can't be your destiny. You still have a part to play."

"I don't think so."

Merlin's heart sank at her indifferent tone. Yet, he still had one last hope, one final secret he would unveil in hopes to regain her trust.

Taking a deep breath, his shoulders back, Merlin steadied himself. With the weight of secrecy lifted by Arthur, he was free to fully explore the depths of his powers. Maxwell was teaching him an art that Merlin innately knew he'd already possessed. Magic tingled inside him, warming him.

"You have searched long for one with a particular name." His voice commanding, he stared at her intently. "One the druids speak of in reverence."

Her brows drew together, confused yet attentive. Merlin pressed on.

"Some call him the Beginning and the End." He took a step toward her, planting his feet apart with assurance. "He's known by many names as a great sorcerer. He is one of legends."

Comprehension crept across Morgana's face, her lips twitching. "No."

Merlin peered into her eyes, confidence growing in him, his magic ready to burst free. "I am the one you seek, Morgana."

"You can't be." She shrank from him, her expression twisted with distress.

Merlin held her gaze steadily. "I am Emrys."

His voice rang with authority, his eyes blazing gold and a slight, knowing smile on his lips as the old and young Emrys flashed before her.

Her lips parted in a silent gasp, color draining from her face. She swayed slightly as if her legs had turned to water. He watched her processed his words, fear, shock, and rage brewing in her eyes before suddenly focusing on him.

She quickly strode forward, striking him across the face with her palm. The sound rang out sharply, but he did not retaliate.

"The great deceiver," Morgana hissed. Her hands were shaking and she looked on the verge of tears. "Leave me."

Merlin's cheek stung, but he held her furious gaze. "I only ever wanted to help you."

Another blow snapped his head back. In his peripherals, he saw Aithusa cower and Kilgharrah stir in anger.

"You're a liar," Morgana snarled.

Merlin stood firm, his voice calm. "Please listen. Magic is free now, things are changing..."

But Morgana was beyond hearing, circling him like a predator. "I'm supposed to trust Arthur? He's likely to round us all up and execute us, just like Uther did countless times. He's no better than father."

"Do you really believe that?"

She stopped a few paces from him, and threw daggers with her eyes. "Yes!" she shouted. "As long as I'm bound with this—" she snapped up her arm in Hades' Grip. "—I have no reason to believe anything less."

Speechless, his Adam's Apple bobbed in his throat. He sighed, casting his gaze upon a mountain peak.

"Will he free me from this punishment?" she asked with calm.

Hesitant knowing Arthur's disdain for her, he could only reply truthfully. "It may take time to rebuild his trust."

"Then nothing has changed for me." She started her prowl again.

"That's not true, Morgana." He took a pensive step toward her and she stopped to look at him. "The Triple Goddess spared you for a reason. All we know is that you have a part in the future of our kingdom."

"We shall see, Merlin." Her tone was icy, penetrating his skin.

"You must have faith," he said softly, assuring her to believe him. "Your time is not yet over."

She scowled in silence, acrimony oozing from her.

Resigned to his failure, but desiring to do more for her, he glanced at her shawl tied to her head. Lifting a hand, his magic awakening, he hoped that restoring her shorn hair to luxurious locks would offer one small comfort.

But Morgana drew back from his touch. "No. You may not. It's fitting for the circumstance."

Her rejection stung and Merlin simply let his hand fall as she shouldered past him, her book pressed to her chest and returned inside the cave, sparing neither Kilgharrah nor Aithusa another glance.

His lips drew thin. They were still far from healing.

With a heavy heart, he walked back to Kilgharrah in the brisk wind, his olive branch turned to ashes.

The flap of the dragon's wings echoed Merlin's bitter disappointment, his confidence slipping into the nether. He had tried, yet their two paths remained painfully diverged. Would they ever come together again as allies? As friends?

What did time hold for their opposing, yet entwined fates?